


Worth It

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [13]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Conventions, Drinking, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Fun, GISHWHES, Games, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the stress of GISHWHES makes Misha go a little crazy, and Jensen always wishes he could help. Well, this time ... he finally has the balls to do something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earth_dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/gifts).



> This is a gift for my dear friend Tracy, AKA [ earthdragon1](http://earthdragon1.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. She is going out of her mind organizing her own scavenger hunt and needed to know that she wasn't alone. She isn't ... I'm sure Misha can commiserate!
> 
> Good luck, my dear!

* * *

 

                “Well call them again! I don’t want to send ten thousand people out looking for members of some secret society if it’s going to end up breaking the law.” Misha stands with his hand on his hip and his cell to his ear—looking confused and annoyed … basically, what everyone around here has come to know as the "July-Look”.

                Jensen sighs from the green room table and shakes his head at him, finally turning to look at Briana as she downs her third cup of coffee. “He’s really freaking out this time, isn’t he?”

                She looks over in Misha’s direction and shrugs. “I’m not the best person to ask. I only saw him like this once, but yeah—that was right before GISHWHES started last year.”

                “He works himself up so much, ya know? For something that’s supposed to be fun, he always makes it look so stressful” Jensen murmurs, still gazing at Misha with perpetual concern.

                Briana chuckles and draws his eyes back to her. “You are so cute … all worried about your man!” She sets down her coffee cup and then clasps her hands together in front of her heart—fluttering her eyes dreamily as she sighs.

                “If there’s a grapefruit shortage then let’s just pick another fruit!” Misha shrieks suddenly.

                Briana and Jensen both jump as they snap their focus to the man—the man who is now red faced, both from embarrassment and anger, and is mouthing “sorry” to them before he turns and heads for the greenroom door.

                Jensen watches him leave, setting his jaw and smacking the table’s surface as soon as the door clicks closed behind the guy. “That’s it. I need to do something.”

                Briana blinks at him, bemused. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

                All of Jensen’s determination instantly collapses. “I dunno. I was hoping you could tell me?”

                “Oh no, hot pants. I don’t want to get involved!”

                Jensen leans back in his seat with his brows narrowed. “Why not?”

                “With someone wound as tight as Misha is right now, it’s always dangerous to try and pluck their strings. They’ll be likely to snap!”

                “Yeah … but I want to unwind him” Jensen mutters back, knowing that Briana is right. He needs to be careful about this.

                “Well, is there a way you can help him with any of this hunt-stuff?”

                Jensen let’s out one, large “Ha!” before he shakes his head and slumps forward again. “You heard him! He’s practically talking gibberish. I’d just get in his way.”

                Briana leans forward as well and pats his forearm, smiling at him with just a tinge of pity. “Alright, alright. Well … tell ya what. Whenever _my_ husband gets all lost in his head …”

                Jensen tilts his eyes up and his mouth down at the not-so-subtle comparison.

                Briana ignores it, smiling more as she continues on. “I help him by either actually taking some of the responsibility—or by taking his mind off of things completely, even for just an hour or so.”

                “How do you do that?” Jensen asks, genuinely.

                “Blow job.”

                He barks out a laugh and sits back up.

                “What? Don’t tell me that that doesn’t help ease _your_ mind?”

                Jensen shrugs, having to give in to _that one_. Blow jobs are magical. “Well …” he says after another minute, “I can’t really just blow him in the hallway, can I?”

                Briana cocks up her eyebrow at him. “I mean— _you could._ There are quite a few fans out there who would appreciate seeing that … but, for the sake of your future careers, then _no._ ” The woman laughs some more and runs her hand through her long, blonde hair. “Why don’t you take him somewhere? You guys are both almost done for the day. Just some more autographs, right?”

                Jensen nods.

                “Okay then. Take him somewhere—take his phone and _make him_ forget about this hunt for a while. He’ll probably be pissed at you at first, but he’ll thank you later.”

                Jensen swallows and nods again, slightly worried that Misha won’t thank him for it. This is GISHWHES crunch time after all, but the guy has said himself that he always can think better once he’s finally able to relax some. If Jensen can just get him to relax for a while—well, then all the things he still needs to do should be a little easier, right? _Right._ He should do this. He _will_ do this. Jensen smiles bigger with his determination. “Okay—I’m gonna do it! Thanks, Bri.”

                The woman grins happily his way and shrugs. “No problem at all, hot stuff.”

                Jensen chuckles, propping up and leaning across the table to kiss her on the cheek before turning around to run out the door. He has some planning to do—and only a couple hours to do it.

***

                It’s now or never. Misha is standing by the door—autographs are done, all the last minute re-take photos have just finished … they are officially off for the day. If Jensen doesn’t grab the guy now, then he’ll be heading back to his hotel room and it’ll be damn near impossible to get him out once he’s in there. Misha thanks one of the volunteers and then reaches for the door knob—his cell phone already in hand, perching on the edge of yet another endless phone call.

                _It’s time._

                Jensen jumps up from the couch at the end of the green room and charges forward. He rips the phone out of Misha’s hand and tosses it to Clif, who in-turn, tosses Jensen the keys to the town car they had rented.

                “What the hell?” Misha yelps, but before he can reach out and snatch back his phone, Jensen is shoving him through the door and down the hall. “Hey! Jensen! What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”

                Some straggling fans turn and gawk at them from across the common area at the mouth of the hallway. They laugh and point. Some shout and another takes out her phone and starts recording them. Jensen knew this was a possibility, but there’s only one way down to the garage and he didn’t have the luxury of time on his side—so, he couldn’t wait until everyone left … _let the speculations fly!_

“Jensen! I swear to god!” Misha yelps, trying to turn against Jensen’s strong-armed hold, but with the fans around, he doesn’t fight as much as he could. He’s a feisty one—all their past wrestling matches have taught Jensen that.

                “Hi Misha! Hi Jensen!” one fan shouts.

                Both the men smile as politely as possible while still struggling down the hall. The door to the private garage is just ahead of them now and Jensen knows that as soon as they’re through it, Misha is really going to flip. Thankfully, that’s why he had Clif park the car right out in front, and once Misha is inside, then he can high-tail them out of here.

                They reach the door and Jensen yanks Misha through, seeing the car right there with the passenger side open. _Good thinking, Clif._ He tosses Misha in and then slams the door shut, running around to the driver’s side and jumping in too. Thankfully, Misha was too stunned to think of just opening the door up and getting back out again, so Jensen quickly starts the car and gets them on their way.

                “What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” Misha grits out—slow and harsh, and he actually sounds kind of scary.

                Jensen swallows hard, but sterns himself—attempting to act more confident than he is. “I’m getting your mind off of things.”

                Misha gawks at him and as they drive through the gated entrance to the garage, Jensen becomes more and more squeamish sitting in the midst of that heated blue stare.

                “What?”

                Misha says nothing a minute longer as they turn out onto the street.

                Jensen squirms more in his seat. “What?” he asks again, truly knowing the answer, but he hasn’t done anything like this before—not on his own. Whenever he’s pissed Misha off in the past, Jared was usually the mastermind behind it, so Jensen didn’t have to feel too guilty. But now, this is all _him_ and feeling the guy stab him with his eyes make him want to call the whole thing off and beg for forgiveness.  But then again, Briana said that this would happen—and he just needs to muscle through it.

                “You took my phone” Misha hums after a painfully intense few minutes. “You took my phone and then you _kidnapped_ me!”

                “Yeah … sorry about that” Jensen laughs, still trying to play it cool. “But you are driving yourself crazy and you need a break.”

                Misha twists in his seat so he can face Jensen more, and he leans in closer—like a snake waiting to strike. “I am going _crazy_ because I have literally a hundred things to do and only a few weeks to do them. I have calls to make and e-mails to read and no time for shit like _this_ ; yet, _knowing_ that … you still went ahead and snatched me away like some creeper in a van … and that’s supposed to _help me_?”

                Jensen grips the wheel tighter, feeling his palms begin to sweat. “Yeah” he mutters shakily.

                “Jensen, turn the car around and take me back.”

                Jensen sighs and shakes his head, knowing very well that he might be signing his own death-warrant. “No.”

                “I’m not kidding. Take me back _right now_.”

                Jensen shakes his head again. “I’m only keeping you for an hour or so, man. You can spare that.”

                “How do _you_ know? I just said I got a million things to do—”

                “No, you said you had a _hundred_ things to do” Jensen cuts in, smugly.

                Misha huffs—anger heating the interior of the car by a hundred degrees.

                Jensen gulps again. Fucking with this guy right now is probably _not_ a smart idea. “Sorry …” he says after a collecting moment. “I know you’re busy and I know that this doesn’t seem like it’s helping right now, but trust me, man—it _will_ help. I just hate seeing you so stressed out.” He softens his voice and smiles slightly when he sees the rigid shape beside him soften too. “It’s just for an hour, okay? Then I’ll take you back and you can dive into all the e-mails about grapefruits that you want.”

                Misha sighs and then chuckles dryly a second before plopping his head back against the headrest, finally seeming to accept his fate. “I guess … there is a world-wide grapefruit shortage thanks to climate change, so it’d be irresponsible to use them in one of the items.”

                “Can you just replace them with another fruit?” Jensen asks curiously.

                “You’d think so, but the attributes of the grapefruit were _perfect_ for what we are trying to do.”

                Jensen opens his mouth to ask what that is, but then closes it again—because he doesn’t need to get Misha wrapped up in these issues for a third time tonight. That’s the exact opposite of what he’s hoping to accomplish here.  Thankfully, their first stop appears just ahead of them and soon, Jensen in pulling into the Pizza Hut parking lot.

                “Pizza?” Misha asks, laughing and sounding both surprised and unimpressed all at once.

                “Yep” Jensen laughs. “Wait here.” And with that, he jumps out of the car and bustles inside, returning after only a few minutes with a box balanced on his hand. He gets back into the car and hands the box over to Misha—who takes it eagerly.

                “It does smell good” the guy says, cracking open the container and smiling at the contents.

                Jensen smiles too. “Fuck yeah, it does! I don’t know about you, but all I’ve had today were the chips that were sitting in the green room.”

                “I didn’t even have _that_ much” Misha mutters miserably.

                “Well, then it’s good I got your favorite.”

                Misha grins back at him—an ease in his eyes that Jensen hasn’t seen for a while now.

_This is working._

                He starts the car back up and then sets out to their next destination—relaxing with the new, lighter tone that’s flowing between them. Misha doesn’t wait and starts eating a slice of pizza before they even get to where they’re going, and Jensen laughs as he listens to the man talk around mouthful after mouthful. Another fifteen minutes pass and they finally arrive at the large, empty parking lot. Apparently there used to be plans to build a Wal Mart here, but the city lost the funds. So now, it’s nothing but a giant empty block of concrete littered with beer cans and cigarette butts. _It’s perfect._

                “If you were anyone else, I would think you’re about to murder me” Misha laughs, peering out the window in wonder.

                “You’re lucky I’m _me_ then” Jensen says, turning off the engine once they get into the middle of the lot. It’s pretty dark but the moon is bright, so they can still see well enough. Once still, he hops out and pops the trunk, pulling out the case of beer that he had someone run and get when they were still signing autographs.

                Misha gets out too, setting the pizza box on the top of the car.

                Jensen wanders to his side and sets down the case, ripping it open immediately after and pulling out a couple of cans. He hands one to Misha and smiles grandly at him. The guy takes it and brushes softly against Jensen’s shoulder as he leans back against the car door and cracks open the beer. They stand there for a while, drinking and listening to the crickets chirp and the occasional car whiz by on lonely road beside them.

                “So why _here_?” Misha finally asks before downing the rest of his drink. “Why a big empty parking lot?”

                Jensen laughs, turning around to grab a slice of pizza with his free hand. “Because …” he mumbles around a quick bite. “Where else can we do donuts in this car and shoot at these beer cans?”

                “Shoot?” Misha asks, scrunching his brow in Jensen’s direction.

                Jensen nods and then heads back to the still-open trunk, jerking his head to imply that Misha should follow him. Misha does, and once he gets to Jensen’s side and looks down, his curious blue eyes blow wide.

                “No way!” he chirps happily, tossing his empty can over his shoulder so he can use both his hands to reach into the trunk. “Nerf guns?”

                Jensen finishes his beer and tosses it too. “Yep. The hotel did some charity function last weekend, and these were left-over. I heard one of the volunteers talking about them so it kind of inspired this whole idea.” He partially rolls his eyes and then nudges his friend with his elbow. “Well … Briana inspired it first, but then _these_ set everything into motion.” He looks down at the several, large toy guns and the half dozen boxes of foam balls and darts beside them.

                “I haven’t played with these in years!” Misha says, pulling one of the guns up to his face and lining up the sites with some random spot in the distance.

                “Me either” Jensen laughs, quickly finishing his pizza so he can do the same.

 

                Over the next forty five minutes, they took turns lining up beer cans—a couple, _their own_ , but most were the ones they found scattered around the lot, and then they shot them all down with flurries of foam projectiles. They ate and drank, and laughed and placed bets. Jensen won most of them, considering he is a much better shot than Misha is—but Misha lucked out a time or two as well. Then they mowed down the rest of the standing cans with the car, spinning donuts and squealing the tires until they echoed through the night. Misha even got the wheels to lift from the ground a couple times and that’s when Jensen had to call it—not wanting the guy to flip the car or for them to get in trouble for all the ruckus they were making.  It was irresponsible, and _sure_ , if the cops came, they’d be in a whole mess of trouble, but Misha enjoyed the risk and Jensen knew that. This night was all about that weird, dork of a man and making him feel better; and if that meant that Jensen had to take some chances with the law, well then … he didn’t mind.

 

                Once things finally settled down and they cleaned up the best they could, the two found themselves lying on the hood of that rental car, quietly staring up at the sky.

                “I needed this” Misha whispers suddenly—and Jensen jolts, because he very well could have been dosing and not even realized it.

                “I know.”

                Misha chuckles lightly. “I know you knew. Thank you for knowing.”

                “No problem” Jensen sighs, sliding his hand over to intertwine with Misha’s.

                “So …” Misha begins again, turning his head to look into those sleepy, green eyes. “What did you have in mind after this?”

                The sleep slowly fades as the original idea for this night creeps back into his brain. A wicked grin curls across Jensen’s lips before he slithers down, sliding off the hood of the car and slinking over to stand between Misha’s knees.

                Misha cranes his head up and peers down his stomach as Jensen begins to bend in—fingers appearing out of nowhere and undoing the button to his pants. “Oh … well, _fuck yes!_ ”

                Jensen laughs as he unzips Misha’s fly, quickly yanking the guy’s pants open and half way down his ass—just enough for his clothed cock to perk up in the night air.

                “You can thank Briana for thinking of _this_ ” Jensen whispers, just before diving down and mouthing the cotton around the tip of Misha’s dick.

                Misha slumps back against the shiny black metal of the hood, gasping towards the stars. “Thank you, Briana!”

                Jensen huffs happily as he pulls down Misha’s briefs as well, eyeing that beautiful cock for the thousandth time since they’ve met, but as always—it’s never enough. With one more deep breath, he swallows it down, reaching out quickly to hold Misha’s wrists to the hood. The man throbs in his throat—loving the restriction, making small juts with his hips as he aches to move. Misha always says he enjoys being pinned, which is why their wrestling matches usually end with their pants off and someone getting rug burn on their face (that someone is usually _Jensen_ , but he doesn’t mind.)

                “Fuck … you’re good at this!” Misha mutters, soon groaning through his teeth and clenching his fists.

                Jensen holds him tighter, sucking harder and swirling his tongue across that long, thick length of flesh. He hums with the praise—knowing very well that the vibration of his voice will only make Misha _more_ crazy.

                “Shit!” Misha cries out—the sweat on his skin glowing in the moonlight.

                Jensen smiles for a brief moment, because the man is always so beautiful when he’s like this, and Jensen wishes he had another set of eyes just to watch him.

                “Jensen … _Christ_ … I’m gonna come!” Misha yelps, pulling up his arms the best he can—his cock throbbing even more when Jensen shoves them back down.

                He bobs and licks, and inhales inch after inch, knowing that this is all raw and messy and completely chaotic—much like their first time was, and the whole experience brings back an odd sense of nostalgia that makes Jensen’s mind soften even in the midst of swallowing something so hard. A rattled wheeze rips from Misha’s lungs making Jensen focus again as he steadies himself on the man’s release. Misha cries as he spills down Jensen’s throat, choking on curses and punching the metal of the hood with the side of his fist.

                “Fuck—fuck, fucking fuck!” he grits, wide eyed and staring into the ether.

                Jensen swallows the dregs, taking his time before he slowly slips off, eventually letting Misha’s dick plop back with a sigh.

                “ _Oh my god_ , I think I’m dying.”

                Jensen laughs as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re not dying.”

                “ _I am_. You sucked the life right out of me” Misha grunts, still staring blankly at the sea of black above them.

                “You’ll make it” Jensen says, patting the guy’s thigh before working his pants back over his hips and zipping Misha up again.

                But the man continues to lie there, looking boneless and happy. “You … are amazing” he says after another moment, sounding less shocked and more exhausted than anything.

                “I am … I know” Jensen mutters cockily, leaning back against the hood.

                “No, but really … you’re the best. You’re the king of blow jobs. I think I’m going to make you a crown.”

                Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “A crown?”

                “Yeah, and a scepter, and a cape.”

                “Oh really?”

                “Yes, and they will all be covered with jeweled dicks shooting out sprays of diamonds and pearls.”

                “Classy.”

                “Only the best for you, baby!” Misha chuckles—his chuckle quickly turning into a yawn.

                “All right, well you can start on all that first thing in the morning, but for now—let’s get you back to the hotel.” Jensen stands back up and pats Misha’s thigh again before grabbing onto his friend’s arm and attempting to pull him upright. Misha only slips along the hood, but makes no effort in actually moving. “Come on, dude” Jensen whines, pulling at him again.

                Misha groans, but after a few more tugs at his arm, he finally uses his shaky muscles to get off the hood of the car.

                Before long, they’re both inside the cab again and Jensen is starting up the engine. He only had the one beer and that was now over an hour ago, so he knows he’s fine to drive—but part of him is still kind of nervous about it anyway. Misha had a few more than him, and the blissful, blurry smile on his face shows that he’s still feeling the effects of it. Jensen chuckles and shakes his head, finally pulling out of the lot and getting back on the road.

                The hotel isn’t that far away, but the drive is long enough that Misha still falls asleep. Every red light or stop sign that they hit, Jensen looks over happily at the relaxed, care-free man in the seat beside him. The bags under his eyes seem less prominent and that delirious smile is still on his face; and every time the wheels start rolling again and Jensen has to look away, he lets his free hand glide over and trace circles onto Misha’s arm. He knows that the man won’t be like this come tomorrow—this relaxed and content, but Jensen is delighted that he could at least give this to him tonight. He has seen very few people work as tirelessly for others as Misha does, and the guy rarely asks for anything in return. If he can make him happy with some nerf guns and perhaps, a few fines added onto a car’s rental agreement—then Jensen is damn sure going to do it.

                Misha inhales deeply and shifts in his seat—fingers reaching out for Jensen without a conscious thought.

                Jensen grins and grabs hold of them, locking the other man’s hand in his own before lifting it up and kissing the knuckles as soft as he can. Misha sighs with the contact and softens more, light snores soon filling up the car.

                The hotel appears in the distance and Jensen eases in his seat.

 _Yeah_.

_This was worth it._


End file.
